After our third child was old enough to go to school, my husband wanted me to go back to work. He had a good job with an engineering firm, but felt we needed the extra income, so like a good wife I agreed and started to look around. As luck would have it, a construction company down the street was looking for help in their office, and after an interview I was hired. At age 40, I was younger than the other two ladies in the office, but they were friendly enough, and I settled in to learn the ins and outs of the job. It was a big company for a small town, with over 50 employees. Of those, there were the three of us in the office, and 3 guys who worked out back in the yard. The rest were at job sites during the day, including the owner. My job was to match up invoices with purchase orders, so several times each day I'd have to call out to the yard, or the supervisor would come to the office. The supervisor, I learned, was married to the owner's sister. He was a big guy, with a rough gravelly voice, and a non-stop flirt. He was in his early 60's, and married, but that didn't slow him down at all. Right away, he zeroed in on me, making suggestive comments while leaning over the counter, and checking me out. This was in the mid 80's, and sexual harassment wasn't a thing in those days.
At 5' 3" with a big chest and big head of hair, I attracted a lot of attention in high school and college. After having 3 kids, my hips were wider, my tummy was soft, and my boobs had grown from C-cups to DD. I met my husband-to-be in college, and after he graduated, we got married. He was and is a good man, a good provider, and in the beginning a very attentive lover. He isn't a big man, no more than 5' 7" tall, and his cock is around 5" long. But it was enough for me, and after 4 years we decided to start a family. Three girls later, we decided we had enough. The girls are now 16, 12, and 9. Jim, my husband, had a vasectomy two years ago. He moved up in the company that hired him, which meant he worked on bigger jobs, and had to travel quite a bit, leaving me home for days at time to take care of the house and the kids. Finding a job where I could have contact with adults every day was a nice change for me, and it made Jim's absences easy to take. Along with being away a lot, he was also under a lot of stress. When he was working in the office, he'd come home each day exhausted. After supper, he'd mow the yard, or watch TV, and go to bed early if he didn't fall asleep in his chair.
Of course, our sex life dwindled away until it was once a week, at best. I made the best of it, enjoying the rare times when he wanted sex, but still missing what we once had. Having kids around didn't make it any easier. So, even though cheating had never crossed my mind, I guess everything had built up until I was primed. All it needed was something to push me over the edge. The first nudges started after I'd been on the job about 2 weeks. Like I said, the yard supervisor, Carl, would come in the office and flirt with us. At first I didn't know what to make of it, and was pretty embarrassed at some of the things he said. The other girls, Sandy and Terry, gave it right back to him, and for the most part it was funny as hell. So I decided to go along with it, and soon I was firing back at him just like they did. One day, Terry and I were alone in the office, and after Carl had been in, she warned me to be careful of Carl. He was a known cheater, she said, but , for some reason,his wife out up with it. He was also buddies with the owner, too, she said.
For some reason, this knowledge bothered me. Not on a moral level, but in a sexual way. I didn't think I was attracted to Carl, but I now realized there was a darker side to his flirting. He wanted to get me in bed, and that thought disturbed something in me. At any other time in my life, I would have brushed the thought aside, but in my current frustrated state, the notion lingered. It only got worse after I had a dream a couple of nights later, where I dreamed I was bent over a desk, letting Carl take me from behind. I sat up in bed, gasping and looking around. Jim was sleeping like a log next to me, and never moved. I calmed down and tried to go back to sleep, but the image was fixed in my head. So, that went on for quite a while. Carl didn't come in every day, but when he did, he would make his usual comments to us, leering at me as he leaned on the counter. I tried to let on like it was the same old thing, but later the troublesome thoughts would come back.
Like I said, he was a big guy, just over 6 feet, with a thick chest, and big arms and hands. He had shaggy hair and a beard, both salt and pepper gray colored. Usually he wore a cotton work shirts with the sleeves cut off, letting his tanned hairy arms show. He wasn't bad looking, not at all, just not the type of guy I usually found attractive. I never had another dream about him, but I would think about the dream, and about him. None of this was healthy, but I couldn't make myself stop. One weekend my husband was feeling frisky. The kids were fast asleep, and soon we were naked on top of the bed with Jim on top of me, with my legs up in the air and spread wide. After several days of no sex, I had my eyes closed, enjoying his cock thrusting into me. I'd had some wine after dinner, and my thoughts were all over the place, when I realized I was imagining that it was Carl on top of me, not my husband. I jerked, and tightened my grip around his neck. Jim stopped, and looked at me.
"You okay?" he asked with a confused expression. I kissed him, feeding him a wet tongue.
"Oh yes, you just hit the right spot. Come on, don't stop." He got back to it, and I tried to get into it, but the image of Carl's big hairy body on top of me kept coming back. Finally, I gave in, and in my partially drunk mind, it was Carl's cock in me, his body pressing me down into the sheets. I had an orgasm, a big one, and after he came Jim fell asleep. It took me a long time to go to sleep, I was still buzzing from my orgasm, and I was also ashamed at what I had done.
A couple of weeks later, Jim had been gone a few days on business. I was at work, looking forward to having him back home, and was filled with happy thoughts when the phone rang. It was Jim, telling me he would have to stay through the weekend. Damn it! All my plans shot to hell. I moped around the rest of the day, was crabby with my kids, and was still not happy when I went to work the next day. I hadn't had sex since that night, and was pretty frustrated about having to wait, probably a whole week to the next weekend. Terry was off for the day, and Sally was at lunch. A crew boss called in, wanting to know how many sheets of a specific type of plywood we had in the warehouse. I walked out the back door and across the yard to the warehouse. It had been a hectic day, and I wasn't thinking about who might be in the building. The big doors on each end of the warehouse were open, letting the wind come through. Glancing around, I couldn't see anyone, but I could faintly hear a voice coming from the office across the way.
I walked into the office, and saw Carl sitting at the desk, feet up, talking on the phone. He looked up, and waved me in, still talking, so I came in and stood by a file cabinet. His call ended, and he hung up, then leaned back and looked me up and down.
"Hey there, good lookin', what brings you out here?" he said in his raspy voice. I handed him the note, and glanced around the office while he flipped through papers on his desk. Typical blue collar office, it had calendars of cars, bulldozers, and naked women with enormous boobs all over the walls. He glanced up, and saw where I was looking.
"You oughta pose for one of those," he laughed.
"Yeah, they'd love to have a 40 year old mom in their calendar," I replied, rolling my eyes. He stood up, and walked over next to me. I could smell his deodorant, mixed with the smell of sawdust, and I could feel his eyes on me. Looking up, his gaze was on my chest. I'd worn a top with a bit of a scoop neck, and it showed a lot of cleavage. He continued to stare, and I felt myself get warm.
"You don't give yourself enough credit, you look like a real woman, lots better than those fake tits." I flushed, embarrassed at his bold talk.
"I'll take that as a compliment. But shouldn't we be looking for that plywood, instead of talking about boobs?" He stopped staring, and laughed.
"Yeah, come on, it should be over here." We walked across the warehouse and located the stack of plywood sheets. After he counted them out, I wrote down the number, and started to leave.
